


of saints and sinner, return home

by ImNoth



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Also for their paralogue, Blood and Injury, Gender-Neutral My Unit | Byleth, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Spoilers for Seteth & Flayn's A-Support, i think, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-22 05:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22310329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNoth/pseuds/ImNoth
Summary: His disguise had been so carefully crafted. After so long, he felt maybe, just maybe, he and Flayn were finally safe.That was, until, a storm brought an unneeded and unexpected reunion.(SPOILERS FOR SETETH AND FLAYN)
Relationships: Flayn & Seteth (Fire Emblem), My Unit | Byleth & Seteth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	of saints and sinner, return home

Seteth was restless. The storm had lasted for days; With heavy rain, no wind. Today, wind with the rain. He told himself he hadn’t been paying attention to the weather, but he admitted he’d been unable to stay on task. Something continues to drag his attention continuously from his work to the shaking windows.

“You’re… off,” spoke Byleth as softly as ever. He yelped in surprise, making the professor chuckle beside him. “Apologies.”

“It’s quite alright,” he said, “but what were you saying?”

“You’re off.”

“Off?”

“Off.”

The conversation was going nowhere, and while usually he’d be glad to fill the void for them, his breath stutter and heart sped. “The concern is…” _Nice?_ “Unwarranted, Professor.” _Better._

The cold, teal eyes flickered over him without much care of him watching made him want to squirm, or at least give in to the primal instinct to run or fight. He steeled himself behind a shallow ‘Good day’ and left without another word. Their eyes were piercing into his back, making the ice in his chest nearly unbearable.

-

Gloom set over the monastery as the clouds refused to part. The sun was overcome by the storm and the earth was slick with rain. He nearly laughed at the poeticness, yet the hyper-awareness of every move made next to him left his head spinning on the spear it was sliced off by. Mind lost in the wind, lost in the waves.

Completing normally unburdening tasks was more of a chore than any day. His name was called and he wouldn’t listen. Too much to be done with such little time to do it in. Had the sun set? He searched toward the ground for the light, tugging at his sleeve for his attention.

“Brother?” Flayn’s voice was a sweet song in the endless buzzing, “The professor told me to come speak with you. Is something the matter?”

He bit his tongue to keep it from slithering out from his severed neck and avoid spitting gore instead of words. “I hadn’t called for you, no.” He pretended not to notice her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Perhaps you could ask them why they sent you first.”

She looked as if she wished to say more, though pursed her lips and walked away silently. The cold spread to his fingers as his Sun disappeared from sight.

-

Even after the sun had set, with only the candlelight illuminating his desk, the rain he once found so peaceful made his chest ache. It was frustrating, to say the least, to have worries with no cause.

And then the rain stopped.

It was abrupt (not that he was listening, anxiously watching it outside his window while contemplating his uneasiness) and he thought, perhaps, he may finally finish his work for the night. The howling wind told him otherwise.

“Enough of this,” he muttered to himself, rising from his seat. It was late and the wind whined in protest, but it didn’t stop him from heading out of his quarters to take a walk through the monastery. Clouds overcast in the left the world in grayscale. Black trees by the gray stones in the foggy, white air of fall. Remaining lights revealed the true colors of the yellows and reds of the forest. The ice eased itself at the sight of the fiery leaves.

“...”

“ _Sweet Mother-_ ” He almost sputtered out a curse when he had sensed a gaze boring into his back. To glance over his shoulder and find out it wasn’t just his hyperactive nerves, but to see the professor standing only a few feet away from himself, had been no less than terrifying. They didn’t say a word, aside from a half-mouthed apology. The two stood in silence for a long time, just staring at one another, before respectively guiding their gazes back to the shared scenery of the quiet evening. The calm was a breath of refreshing cold air and the silent company gave warmth to it. Staring over the stone walls to focus on the sea of black was becoming enough to lull him into a drowsy. Maybe now he could head back and drift to sleep…

The clanking of metal armor, on the other hand, was far from therapeutic. They fell in rapid succession and the glint of silvery metal in orange light caught his eye. Curious and worried as ever, he followed after. The same tug that had been stealing his attention all day was calling again. He kept quiet as he followed, wishing to see the situation unfold and assessing whether he really needs to step in. He was only vaguely aware of Byleth keeping their distance as they came as well.

There’s a small group of guards circled around something at the front gate. He hears them debating what to do next, arguing whether or not to be overly cautious for a trap, and clears his throat to enter the conflict. Murmurs fall between the knights, before being interrupted by Byleth clearing theirs. Immediate compliance. Curse their charm.

“If you’re quite done your chatter, gentlemen, I’d like to know the problem,” Seteth spoke curtly; His patience already worn thin.

“They look like him!” One soldier whispered a bit too loud.

He tried not to let the uneasy feeling his chest make his speech falter. “Who does, exactly?”

There was anxious glances between the few of them. Then the group parts to either side, revealing two men, both bloodied and unconscious, green hair damp with red.

“Knights were alerted to movement in the sky in the east above the forest,” one knight started, “These two appeared from the forest, heavily injured and the larger one unconscious already. We held our positions, as it seemed they were coming to the main gate. Here, we were going to interrogate their suspicious movement, but the second one collapsed right here.”

Seteth had barely listened to the explanation, only dully aware it was being told to him. The color had drained from his face, illuminated by the moon in the now clear sky. The icicle had dropped into his stomach as he stared at the figures of his collapsed brothers. Byleth stirs next to him. He takes a slow, shaky breath before speaking again.

“Bring them in.” He hated the way his voice shook despite his will. Saint of strength be damned.

Without another word, they carefully lift Indech; Broad-shouldered with sea green hair pulled into a low ponytail. He watches numbly while the limp body is carried away, then watches his own reach down to take Macuil into his arms. His hair is still as unkempt, tangled, and long since the last time he’s seen him. The yellow-green hair draped over his more lanky build. The blood soaked through the ancient garbs their extinct people once donned, onto the sleeves of his own more conservative uniform of the modern world, modern church, ~~**modern** **cult**~~. Byleth tried to help him hold him. He didn’t allow it. Only the shallow breaths showed any chance he was alive at all and he needed to feel them for himself.

Behind the guards, he followed, and told himself the lack of storm was not the dragons’ doing.

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter: Where'd they come from, and why did they go? Everyone wonders where did they come from, Cotton Eye Seth


End file.
